Passing the test
by Skaiwa
Summary: The story of a woman and a man falling in love and enduring, despite their differences and difficulties.
1. Request

Author's note: This is the first thing I've written in about a decade or more so I'm probably rather 'rusty'. Hopefully it will prove to be a worthwhile read all the same.

This story, believe it or not, started off as a single mental image of a chicken's feet and a turian's hands. That's usually how a story comes to life for me; there's an absurd or funny image in my mind and with luck, a story evolves around it.

Anyway, I wanted to write something a bit different from what I've been reading here on so far. This is the story of a woman and a man falling in love and enduring, despite their differences and difficulties.

There is a chapter detailing intimacy between them but it is my hope that it isn't any worse than other fanfiction already posted here on .

And lastly, this hasn't passed the test of any beta readers but I'm reasonably confident it isn't crawling with linguistic mistakes. There might be the odd typo despite my best efforts and I apologize if that is the case. English isn't my native language after all …

Disclaimer: Mass Effect and its characters belong to BioWare

Chapter 1: Request

There had been a time when Garrus Vakarian, like every turian, had viewed humanity with suspicion and hatred. But then, how else was one to view an aggressive alien species that decided to present itself, uninvited, through one of the forbidden mass relays and laying claim to turian space?

Or so it had seemed at first. The Turian Fleet and the human Systems Alliance had gone to war over a misunderstanding, initiating a brutal conflict mercifully cut short by Council intervention. In the end, his people had been tasked to set things right again, or as right as they could be when both sides stilled nurtured mistrust and grudge.

But so much had changed since then.

Over the years, he'd come to appreciate and respect the human point of view, had come to admire their boldness and passion and later, as the first human agents were introduced into the force, he'd worked side by side with some very capable C-SEC officers.

Yes, humans and turians had come a long way since the Relay 314 incident all those years ago.

And now, they were waging war _together_. Well, sort of. He'd resigned from C-SEC not long ago and shortly thereafter, he'd found himself working side by side with another outstanding human officer, Jane Shepard. Only this time, she was his commanding officer.

He'd never met someone like her, neither human nor turian. What started out as the usual respect for one's superior quickly developed into something more, something deeper. Something like .. reverance.

Before long there'd been an invisible yet tangible bond between them, something he couldn't quite explain.

He'd found that he could talk to her, but more like to a friend than a superior. She'd taught him to think things over, to analyze and understand himself on a deeper level and she'd showed him the importance of knowing his true motivation before taking action.

She'd made him a better person for it; she'd modelled him into someone else in her image, another Garrus that was slowly becoming the man he'd always wanted to be.

He'd never realized how much he needed someone like that, never understood how lonely and desperate he'd been before.

It wasn't that he couldn't have had anyone if he'd wanted to …

There were bars and clubs within walking distance on the Wards offering a variety of cheap thrills and entertainment, and hooking up with someone for a one-night stand was easy enough. But he hadn't been needing _that_ kind of company. What he'd needed was reliability and stability, an anchor point to tether him to the ground. Someone who'd be there for him when he needed her, someone to catch him every time he fell.

Someone like Jane Shepard.

He couldn't even tell when, exactly, he'd started thinking about her that way. Maybe the thought had already crept into his mind after the mission to Therum to rescue Doctor T'Soni, when Shepard had come seen him in the hanger to talk to him about his reasons for leaving C-SEC and join her on this mission. He'd been confident that leaving had been the right choice. Without C-SEC's red tape and regulations to hinder him in his work, he'd be free to do things his way. She'd told him otherwise.

Or perhaps it happened somewhere between Feros and Noveria, when they'd had a conversation about his career, about his father and about rights and wrongs. He'd expressed his willingness to do whatever it took to bring Saren down no matter the consequences, but she'd reminded him that just because one _could_ break the rules, didn't mean one _should_ do so in order to achieve one's goal.

She'd reminded him about integrity and honour and for the first time, he'd started wondering whether or not there actually was some truth to his father's concerns after all. He'd always dismissed them as exaggerations.

Yes, he might have sacrificed a few innocent civilians along the way, but never unless it was for a greater good.

He'd never had trouble justifying such actions in the past. Now … he wasn't so sure anymore.

Perhaps he was too rash and impatient, always looking for the fastest way around a problem rather than the _right_ way.

But there was Jane Shepard.

Eventually, he'd started depending on her, looking to her for guidance and approval; he needed her to show him what to do and where to go next.

And yet … there were so many questions, so many doubts. Too many whys and what ifs. And there was a hole in his heart, a lonely aching that would not be quelled.

The truth of it was - he was a mess. So much had gone wrong in his life …

He'd been a promising recruit once; his name, and that of a thousand other youths, had been put forward for SPECTRE training. He'd even been one of the top ten candidates to enter, but his father's old-fashioned ideals and attitudes had nipped that opportunity in its bud. Bitterly disappointed, he'd taken the only other option available to him at the time and joined Citadel Security, just like his father had done and had always encouraged him to do.

His father had been one of the best officers around. His father expected even more of his son and though he tried his best, Garrus could never live up to those enormous expectations.

His days as a C-SEC detective had for the most part been an emotional rollercoaster. Sure, he'd concluded a handful of investigations successfully and yes, he'd caught a bunch of criminals along the way, but it was never enough to make him feel good about himself. He wasn't making much of a difference anyway .. all he had to do to remind himself of that fact was to look around the next street corner and there'd always be a crime in progress.

And there'd been the matter of authority as well. Good turians followed orders without question. Garrus questioned every single one of them, if not openly then in his mind. Butting heads with the Executor himself, the turian liason between C-SEC and the Citadel Council, over this thing or that had become a daily routine lately. More than once, he'd threatened to leave C-SEC altogether when the old bastard wouldn't even listen to his suggestions or had dismissed his concerns as pure nonsense. And just as often the Executor had threatened to kick him off the force for insubordination.

Venari Pallin reminded him all too well of his father, might have _been_ his father, the way he repeated the importance of doing things the right way, insisted everything be done by the book, or not at all.

Looking back on his years of service, Garrus, the C-SEC detective was a failure, that was the long and short of it.

Then there'd been the shocking news of his mother's illness and the disagreements with his sister regarding her treatment at a nursery home. Part of him felt guilty about the situation. Part of him urged him to return home, to care for his mother for as long as she lived because that's what good turians did. Their family duty. But going home would inevitably mean facing his father, and he wasn't up to that, not now, when his life was falling apart.

And lastly, to further tip the scales, he'd gotten one of his best friends on the Citadel, a promising young officer killed because of something he'd said in the heat of the moment.

He'd been ranting about the old-fashioned ideals of turian society, something about good turians, about obeying orders, even the bad ones and how, sometimes, you had to follow your heart. Sometimes, right or wrong, you just had to let yourself be inspired by the moment and do the unexpected.

Little did he know that his friend would follows his words to the letter and that his words would ultimately cause the young man's death.

The loss was still an open wound, left unattended far too long. The death had been the last straw, a last disastrous fallout of his own misery, to prompt him to leave C-SEC and never look back.

At the time, it'd felt like his entire life and everything he depended on was crumbling away beneath him. And that was the simple truth of it; he'd be lost, without purpose and direction, if not for Jane Shepard. If not for his current mission aboard the SSV Normandy.

It was getting late. The time reading on the chronometer in his visor told him that it was after midnight in fact, and well into the day crew's sleep cycle. But he could find no rest tonight. His body tingled with an uneasy energy, a restless surge that caused him to jump at the slightest noise.

On the other side of the hanger Wrex, the krogan battlemaster, was resting. The krogan had set up camp down here, refusing the cramped space of the sleep pods provided for the crew. It wasn't hard to see why; even without his armour, Wrex was simply too large to fit inside a pod and so, he slept here.

Once in a while, the krogan grunted in his sleep and the sound was amplified by the hollow hanger space. The thunderous sound never failed to cause Garrus' heart to skip a beat or his fingers to miss a key on the terminal he was working on.

Damn, this was no good.

He recognised this unrest all to well, he'd experienced it before. After all, it wasn't unusual for crews to wind up and tense in the face of a dangerous mission but it seemed humans and turians handled this problem very differently.

Turian vessels provided ample opportunity for stress release. He'd endulged in several of them himself. Heck, a supervised brawl or a one-on-one to blow off steam was _tradition_ on a night like this! Every turian who'd ever served in the Fleet would have gone through this at some point or another, and would have found his or her release through physical exertions.

And there was the _other_ way of handling one's stress … One could always opt for a bit of _privacy _if not in the mood for violence.

But this wasn't a turian vessel, it was a human ship. Everything here was done differently to what he was used to, and that was the problem.

There was no training facility where he could work off some of his energy, in fact there was no excersise equipment whatsoever. If it hadn't been for Wrex sleeping against the other wall, he could have done with a jog right here, all by himself. A couple of hours of a slow paced trot might have worn him out enough to let him find a few hours of rest before tomorrow. Before _Ilos._

He would have preferred something a little more intense though, a quick fix for his anxiety … like beating the hell out of a punching bag. Or sparring.

Come to think of it, this hanger might have done for an arena if he could only have found himself a partner. But all crew not needed to run the ship would be asleep by now, and besides, he wasn't sure any of them would have agreed to take him on even if it was for a bit of friendly sparring.

There was no denying it .. they didn't trust him. He'd seen the way they looked at him, he'd heard the whispers behind his back. Yes, most of the humans still gave him a wide berth and treated him like the enemy. It hurt, but he'd learned to live with it.

For her sake. He'd do anything for her. To be with her.

He glanced over at the sleeping krogan. Well, there was one who would certainly take him on should he ask!

_No_. Daring a match with half a ton of krogan was a bad idea, surely. And yet …

Behind him, he could hear the elevator coming down the shaft and seconds later the soft swoosh of the doors gliding open. He recognized the sound of her footsteps immediately, that confident stride with which she approached him.

Commander Shepard.

_This late?_

And suddenly he knew exactly what he needed to feel better.

For the briefest of moments, images of her in his arms, of them together in bed flashed before his mind's eye. And it was bliss and he would never again have to worry about being lost and left behind and hurting …

"Garrus. Still up?"

He turned around to meet her gaze. Now how would he explain what he needed from her?

"Commander. Yeah, I …, " he started, and faltered. "Listen …" He wanted to tell her about turian traditions. Needed her to know about ways to ease tension, how to soothe anxiety before what might very well be a suicide mission. _He needed her to be with him, like man and woman. _And consequences be damned.

"Something on your mind, Garrus?"

Something? _Everything!_

He tried to find the words, but they wouldn't come. His mandibles churned helplessly until a single word came out. "Saren."

_Saren?_ What the hell did _he_ have to do with any of this! Exasperated, he clenched his fists and felt his talons dig into his palms, through his gloves.

The moment ruined, he might as well continue down this lane. "I've been thinking about what you said, about bringing him before the Council. Are you sure about this, Shepard?" He caught his breath before continuing. "What if he convinces them to listen to him? What if they let him go?" He blinked and spoke his mind, boldly, the way he knew he could speak to her and only her. "I say we don't give him the chance." _No, kill the bastard in a heartbeat, don't give him a chance to get away, again, not with all that he's done._

"We know more about Saren's plans than anyone. But what do we _really_ know? If we kill him, we'll never find out." Her tone was calm and confident and as usual, she was right.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I see your point." There was an awkward moment of silence between them before she spoke.

"So, how are you holding up?" She looked him over, briefly. "You seem a bit tense." She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The feeling of her hand on him made his heart leap with excitement.

"Yeah. Nerves mostly. I …," and he was about to go bold on her, bolder than he'd ever gone before, when there was a thunderous snort from the other side of the hanger. Wrex stirred from his sleep and boomed.

"Would you mind? I'm trying to sleep here!"

Shepard chuckled and turned to the krogan. "Sorry Wrex, I forgot you live down here." She turned back to him and gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Garrus, I'd better go. Try get some rest and I'll see you in the morning."

_Or, we could continue this somewhere else. Somewhere private … _

Images of Shepard close to him floated by again, his skin against hers, a tender embrace ...

But she was already gone and the elevator was creaking back up the shaft.

And his body was in even greater distress now than before.

His eyes wandered towards the krogan again and before he knew it he was stalking up to Wrex. The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of it. "Hey, Wrex, buddy .. "

_Buddy?_ Was he really _that_ desperate?

The old warrior regarded him with a large reddish eye. "What do you want?"

"Well, I could really use a workout and since you're awake anyways …"

The krogan was on his feet before Garrus could even phrase the words _'oh crap!'_ and a thick, meaty finger poked him in the chest.

"_Listen_, turian!" Wrex's enormous head and square jaw hovered a finger's breadth from his own. "First of all, I'm not your _buddy .._.," he snarled, nostrils flaring and eyes squinting.

"And secondly?" Garrus held his breath.

"I'll spar with you but I'm _not_ taking you to bed."

Damn. Seemed the old one was familiar enough with turian customs. He felt heat rise to his cheeks in embarrassment and gritted his teeth before accepting the offer. "Deal."

They circled each other out on the floor in the middle of the hanger, neither wanting to take the initiative, both trying to assess the other.

"All right boy, show me what you've got," Wrex taunted and moved after him as he slipped sideways looking for an opening.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he retorted and tried a swift punch. His fist hit thin air as the krogan smartly sidestepped.

"_Ha!"_ The battlemaster's lips split in a gleeful grin. "Gotta do better than that, kid!" And then the colossus _exploded_ into motion.

He considered himself fast for a turian but Wrex was faster still. The krogan was on him in a flash; his left arm came up instinctively to block the strike, he had a brief sensation of of Wrex's gauntlet sliding over his elbow before the punch connected with his ribs and forced a startled _Ooof!_ from his throat.

How'd he _done_ that!

Gasping and rubbing his chest to rid himself of the tingling in his ribs, he staggered away from his opponent. His armour had taken the force of the blow of course but he'd still _felt_ that. And now he was mad!

"Krogan – turian 1-0," Wrex chuckled. "Want some more? There's plenty left where that came from."

"I'm just getting started," he scoffed. "You won't even see me coming this time." Bending his knees he adopted his fighting stance and this time, he wouldn't be such easy prey!

They started circling again, dancing around each other like a pair of ancient duellists answering a challenge.

Though the odds were not in his favour he gained a little confidence after managing to block three strikes in a row and then neatly slip inside the krogan's defenses and land a punch on that big square chin. Though his fist connected with a satisfying _crunch_ the krogan didn't so much as flinch.

"Is that all you've got?," Wrex drawled feigning disappointment and puffed his massive chest out. "Let me show you how it's done."

The air inside the hanger bay felt suddenly cold against his face. And then Wrex attacked again.

The krogan's right arm snapped out in a vicious blow aiming for his ribcage a second time, but this time he was prepared. He evaded the attack swiftly and glided to his right, setting up an offense of his own. But just as his muscles tensed for the blow, he realized he'd been tricked, discovered that he was stepping right into a second blow, delivered by Wrex's left fist. It would hit him square in the jaw and there was nothing he could do about it …

_CRACK!_

"_Hey … turian? Heey,"_ a distant voice thundered above him.

Something nudged him in the ribs and his first reaction was an instinctive one. His body curled into a quivering fetal ball on the hard deck plates.

"It's me, Wrex." The voice was closer now. "You okay?"

No. He certainly didn't _feel_ okay. There was something wrong with his face … it _hurt_. Reaching up, he was horrified to discover the odd angle of his mandible sticking out to greet his fingertips. And his jaw was … He yelped.

Broken? There was a nauseating crunch of bone grinding against bone as he tried to close his mouth, and a taste of blood on his tongue. He caught a glimpse of blue on the floor beneath him and something pale and sharp glittering with it. It took him a moment to understand what it was. A tooth. _His_ tooth.

And then the world was growing dark and he felt himself starting to slip into unconciousness.

"_Commander," _he hard from a distance. _"We've got an, er, situation …"_

And then he was gone.

_Pain! _His face was being torn apart …

He struggled but couldn't move. There was something in his mouth. The smell of antiseptics and rubber in his nostrils.

His eyes wouldn't open.

_Palaven!_ What was happening to him!

There were voices but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Something about _waking up_. And then another voice, close to his ear.

"Garrus!"

Shepard.

He tried speaking but all that came out was an unintelligible gurgle.

"Garrus, listen to me. You've been hurt, you're with doctor Chakwas in the med bay."

His left eye finally slid open enough for him to catch a glimpse of her face, next to his.

"You're going to be fine, it's nothing serious, but you have to let the doctor work her magic."

He tried to ask _how bad_ but he couldn't form the words, there was something soft and spongy between his lips, something like cotton. His tongue caught in the fibres .. it tasted horrible and he retched helplessly. He could feel her hands on his shoulders, a firm grip pushing him back down.

"Take it easy, big guy. Don't fight it. Your jaw's been dislocated but the doctor will fix that for you in a minute."

There was another voice farther away talking about more sedatives. Something stung his neck, there was the feel of cool liquid entering his bloodstream .. and Shepard vanished from sight.

He came to, startled by the silence and feeling cold to the bone. He reazlied he wasn't wearing anything but his underclothing and a thin blanket on top.

It took him a moment to take in his surroundings and recognize where he was. The med bay. He was lying in one of the recovery bunks at the far end of the main room with a curtain drawn halfway shut beside him to grant him some privacy.

His mouth.

It suddenly came back to him, all of it. The fight with Wrex, being struck down, blacking out on the hanger floor .. and waking up hurt and humiliated, partly sedated, in the operating theatre.

He felt better now though. Apart from a slight headache and a faint dizziness he felt fine.

When he tried sitting up however, he very quickly realized that he wasn't fine at all. The world lurched and his body sagged limply to one side and he was falling … onto his Commander who'd been dozing in a bedside chair.

"_Garrus ..!" _She caught him just in time to stop him sliding off the bed and onto the floor.

"I'm sorry .. I .. ah ..," he slurred groggily and exhaled as she promptly put him back to rest. Talking hurt. His mouth wouldn't move properly and when he reflexively reached up to touch it, he found gauze and tape supporting his mandible and jaw. He blinked, stunned. Was it that bad?

From the corner of his eye he could see her leaning close. "Garrus, what the hell were you thinking? You could have died!"

"Tu .. turian tradition," he mumbled, feeling his bruised tongue graze against the ribs in his palate.

"What?" She was standing over him now as she gave him a suspiscious look .

"Hu ..rts .." He ran his fingers over his immobilized jaw to indicate how his injury was making speaking difficult.

"Fine." She caught on. "You can explain yourself later. Now get some rest." She stood up to leave.

The thought of being alone, wounded and suffering drove a knife through his guts.

"Stay." He reached out, desperately, and his talons caught on her suit. "Please."

_I need you, here, with me. _

"All right." She sat down again, folding her arms gently across her chest. "I can do that."

Their gazes met. She was upset, he could tell. But he was too tired to worry about that now. Now, he just needed her by his side, to comfort him like a mother comforted a foolish child. Now, he needed to sleep, knowing that she'd watch over him and keep him safe.

His hand sought hers. Found it. She accepted his offering and squeezed. It felt good, reassuring.

And before he knew it he was drifting off to sleep.

The night dragged on, it would be morning soon. She'd tried to sleep a little, a few minutes at a time but it wasn't easy supporting herself in the uncomfortable chair. When she couldn't sleep, she let her eyes rest on Garrus' resting form.

He was sound asleep in front of her, a sleep brought on by sedatives and massive doses of painkillers. He was resting on his side turned toward her, head supported by his pillow and a peaceful look on his face. Now and then his eyelids fluttered as were he dreaming and his unhurt mandible would twitch and she could hear tiny, sucking noises from his mouth.

She'd never seen a sleeping turian before. And she'd never seen Garrus this vulnerable. He looked rather sweet, the usual predatory fierceness was gone from his features now, erased by the tranquility of sleep.

She'd never seen him out of his armour either and now she could just about make out his slender build under the blanket. Her gaze lingered on the sharp curve of his hips as they lifted the blanket from his waist.

She wondered what his body was like under it … all alien and strange no doubt. She would like to find out. She _could_ find out, right now. All she had to do was lift the blanked and have a long, good, private look, perhaps a touch even, and he wouldn't even notice.

She shook her head at the idea. Some Commander she was, thinking of feeling up a member of her crew like that.

She forced her gaze to rest on the opposite wall and drew a long, slow breath. She would have to be pretty desperate to respond to an alien this way, wouldn't she?

She let her mind drift as she waited in the dark, quiet hours of the med bay.

She missed someone by her side, someone to hold her and to comfort her when she needed it. She hated going to sleep in a cold, lonely bed each night, staring into the darkness of her cabin and hearing only her own breathing.

She thought about how her childhood had set a routine that had followed her throughout her life; moving from posting to posting with her parents and later on her own, never staying long enough in one place to settle down. Never having the time or opportunity for romane engagement. She'd had friends of course, close friends even … but part of her had always known that engaging in a serious relationship would sooner or later end in heartbreak since she'd be moving on before long. And so she never allowed herself to become that close to anyone.

And now, as Commander Shepard, she was lonelier than she'd ever been before. Lonely enough to find the prospect of a relationship with a turian subordinate appealing.

"_Commander."_ She was nudged awake by a hand on her knee. "Shepard."

Sleepily she opened her eyes and found Garrus wide awake and looking imploringly at her.

"Hey, feeling better?" She cleverly hid a yawn in her palm and checked the time. 7 a.m Standard Earth time. She must have slept a while after all, a fact supported by the awkward kink in her neck.

"I'm fine," he said and pushed himself up on his elbow."A little sore perhaps," he grimaced. "But it's nothing that'll keep me off duty." He drew an awkward breath and looked her straight in the eye, the sudden intensity in his gaze took her aback. "Listen … Shepard."

"You can call me Jane, Garrus."

"Jane," he corrected himself and blinked shyly. "There's .. something important I need to ask you."

"Shoot." She straightened herself, suddenly curious.

"Would you … do something for me? " She could hear him swallow hard, betraying his anxiety. "Would you share a meal with me?"

She could feel her eyebrows sailing high in surprise. "Sure. I know a couple of restaurants that serve human and turian dishes."

He shook his head. "Not like that, that's not what I meant. I mean … _in private."_

Now curiosity was getting the better of her. "Garrus, are you asking me out on a _date?_"

"Yes," and then he quickly corrected himself. "Well no, not exactly." He swallowed hard again. "I mean .. it's … It's more than that." And then: "Would you … would you cook for me?"

"_Garrus ..!" _She drew back, stunned and amused and rather shocked, and she couldn't help herself but chuckle. "What is the meaning of this?"

" It is our belief that … " He hesitated. "When two people … _care_ for each other .. sharing a meal binds them together. We believe that eating from the same bowl will link us, our lives and our fates, forever on from that moment. We will become as one."

She didn't even hear the last part of the sentence, she got caught in the middle. "What are you saying? _Eating from the same bowl?"_ Concern nipped her in the pit of her stomach. "Do you realize how dangerous that would be?"

"There are meds to suppress the physical reaction," he assured her. "It wouldn't be so bad. I can handle it."

There was a moment of awkward silence between them. She wasn't sure what to say. Refuse, and she would hurt his feelings. Accept, and she'd risk losing him to an allergic reaction.

But there _were_ drugs to handle that. And part of her wanted to take Garrus home, delighted at the thought of enjoying a private conversation over dinner. And the thought itself of them sharing dinner was utterly bizarre.

What would he even make of her cooking skills?

She smiled and shook her head. She hadn't cooked a solid meal in _years. _Did she even remember how to?

She realized he was watching her intently, those ice-blue eyes looking to her for support. And she reached a decision.

"Well ," she smiled. "Why the hell not? If you're willing to risk your life and limb to sample my cooking .. who am I to refuse?"

She'd meant it as a joke.

But he wasn't smiling. Instead he took her hand in his and bowed his head. "Thank you, Jane. This means a lot to me. A lot."

Garrus breathed out a long sigh of relief. It was done. The Normandy was en route to the Citadel to report to the Council and tomorrow, Jane Shepard would invite him to her apartment and they would eat a meal together. Tomorrow, he'd be a very happy man.

Because then, he'd have no choice but to tell her everything about turian traditions.


	2. Ordeal

_Home, sweet home, _she thought as she let herself into her two room apartment in one of the more decent districts on the Wards, tossing the keycard on her terminal table next to the hallway closet and checking her comm unit for messages. There were none. Thank god for that.

She took a moment to acclimatize herself to the athmosphere she associated with _home_. The stillness and quiet were comforting, a nice change of pace from the Normandy and from the rigours of command. Many soldiers grew used to spending their lives on starships and went into a strange kind of withrawal without vibrating deck plates under their feet or the ever present murmur of FTL engines. She wasn't one of them.

She made her way to the kitchen and placed her two newly acquired bags of groceries on the marble slab next to her cooking stove, and then she allowed herself the luxuary a brief shower to wash away the day's grime and clear her mind.

Reporting to the Citadel Council had, as it always was, been a chore. Having to put up with the obnoxious turian Councilor always left a sour taste in her mouth and a sense of filth on her skin.

But she couldn't dwell on that now. She certainly wouldn't let that bastard Valern ruin this evening.

Once she'd slipped into something more comfortable, and once dinner was in the oven - she'd chosen a simple dish of roasted chicken and sliced potatoes - she gave her apartment a final inspection. Everything was in order and just as she'd left it nearly three months before.

She wasn't quite happy about the dinner table though. It looked … too empty. She'd laid it for two and placed an empty vase in the middle but it felt like something was missing. Maybe some flowers would lift the table, in a manner of speaking? She hadn't bought any of her own and she didn't know if turians were aware of the human custom of bringing flowers for an occasion like this.

She'd prefer chocolates actually, but the mental image of Garrus bringing her a bunch of roses, a bosomful of them, was a sweet one and roses would look good with the linen.

There was a gentle knock on her door. Startled, she checked the time. _Damn_, he was early!

Like an hour early.

Quickly getting rid of her kitchen apron, she hurried to the door to greet him. The door slid open and .. there he was.

"Garrus."

He was looking good, wearing a cucumber outfit with azure and gold trimmings. The bandage was gone and overall he looked surprisingly bright for someone who'd been knocked unconscious and had had his jaw dislocated less than fourty eight hours ago.

And, much to her delight, he was carrying something that looked a lot like gift-wrapped flowers.

"I'm sorry for being early," he started. "I, ah … had nothing else to do." He gave her an apologetic bow of the head and added nervously. "Hopefully, this isn't offensive in human culture?"

"Well …," she leaned her head on her forearm, resting against the door. "Dinner won't be ready for a while. But come on in. Make yourself comfortable in the meantime." As he stepped into her hallway, she accepted his gift. "What's this?"

"Oh .. I .. hope that's not offensive either."

She tore the wrapping and found two white lillies on long stalks inside. "Garrus, they're beautiful …" And they smelled ever so faintly of vanilla. "Thank you."

She proceeded to put them in the vase on the dining table and they did look very nice with the linen indeed.

Suddenly he'd snuck up behind her, and was close, very close to her.

"In turian culture," he said softly "white is the symbol of life. Of love. It is often used to represent the bond between two people."

_Love. The bond between two people._

She turned around and found his face in front of her own. Very close. Gentle, ice-blue eyes looking into hers and when he breathed, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.

"Garrus …"

"Yes?"

Silence fell between them and they looked each other in th eyes until the silence turned awkward.

At last, she cleared her throat. "I need you to be honest with me."

"Yes, of course, Commander."

"Jane. I need you to explain this so I understand it. What is the significance of this evening? Why is sharing this meal so important for you?"

He reached out and took her hands in his. His leathery skin was warm against her palms. His hand was treambling slightly.

And she had to know. Because sometimes what you _needed_ to hear was not what you _wanted_ to hear. And sometimes, hearing what you wanted to know was what carried you through until tomorrow. "Garrus, are you in love with me?"

He stalled, unwilling or unable to confirm or deny her suspicion. Instead, he simply said: "Jane, I never got a chance to thank you."

"What for?"

"For everything. For taking me with you .. for letting me be part of your team ..." There was a sadness to his eyes. "You've taught me so many things, Jane. You've _changed_ me. Opened my eyes. I'm not the same man I was three months ago." He bowed his head slightly and his mandibles clicked. "I can't go back to being that person anymore. Angry and bitter and never at peace. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd be lost and helpless and .. "

His hands were so warm in hers, the trembling was gone now. And then he looked into her eyes once more with an intensity that rocked her.

"Yes," he breahed. "I love you, Jane Shepard."

She lost track of time as they sat together on her couch, hand in hand, trying to comprehend the implications of his confession. And even more of her own. Because there was a growing suspicion in her heart that she might have fallen in love with him as well.

Garrus loved her.

Her head was spinning from the revelation. It was overwhelming. Shocking even.

Yet she had to admit it'd been plain obvious more than once that he cared for her, perhaps a little more than a mere subordinate for his commanding officer … but to think that he'd come to _love_ her …

Was the turian notion of love even comparable to the human one? Did he realize what he was getting himself into? Did she?

No, surely not …

And the challenge was partly why the idea was appealing. Could she make it work? Could _they_ make it work, together? Or would it end in the inevitable heartbreak she'd always foreseen?

There was the matter of this meal they were supposed to share. There was a looming sense of finality about the act itself, as if she'd agree to spend the rest of her life with him for simply offering him food. Could she go through with this? Should she?

From the kitchen an alarm sounded, forcing the issue. It was either now or never. Yes or no. Love him or leave him.

_Love._

Because she hadn't the heart in her to turn him away when he needed her. When _she_ needed _him_. When they needed each other …

She got to her feet and somehow found her way to the stove. He trailed behind her, curiously testing the air.

"Smells good. What are we having?"

"Chicken." It looked ready to serve, all golden brown and delicious. The smell made her mouth water, it made her hungry, the thought of serving him made her hungrier still.

And then she noticed his eyes, wide and uneasy and fixed on the chicken's legs as they protruded up above the layer of potato slices. It took her the longest time to realize what he was looking at and why he seemed upset. And then she got it at last.

Because Garrus' three-digited hands had involuntarily curled into the same awkward death grip of the chicken's feet. Because those feet were not at all dissimilar to his own hands, scaly and sporting a sharp talon at each toetip. Because turian ancestors had been a birdlike species.

_Because she was an idiot! _

"Garrus, give me a moment, will you?" She hustled him out of there and into the livingroom. "You can wash your hands in the bathroom over there." She watched him slink away and clutched her forehead in despair.

What a stupid mistake. Like him serving her monkey meat .. but it was too late to do anything about it now so she simply got on with the task of cutting the chicken and removing the bones.

The prospect of a romantic dinner was quickly turning into a disaster.

In all honesty, he hadn't been prepared for it to be quite this bad.

The small apartment was flooded with strange smells assaulting his nostrils, some more potent than others and one in particular that made his skin tingle with unease. It wasn't that he hadn't sampled the odours of human cooking before; there were plenty of establishments serving a variety of dishes on the Citadel, but here in this closed setting the mixture of smells grew into a nauseating stench.

And there was the food itself. Although the creature had been reduced to bite-sized chunks of juicy white meat, he couldn't quite get the image of those _feet_ out of his mind. Too similar to his own to be a coincidence.

Part of him wondered how she could be so cruel … the other tried assuring him that it was an honest mistake, an oversight and that she hadn't made the connection until there and then.

He hadn't been able to hide his initial reaction and he was sure she'd caught on to it the way she'd hurried him out of her way and off to the bathroom.

In either case, he was in for more than he'd bargained for. _Deal with it._

There was food on his plate, a fair share of it, more in fact than he would normally eat in one sitting. But he would eat it, every last morsel of it.

_Or he would die trying. _

No, he had faith in the meds, he did. They'd keep him safe. But there was another matter of necessity.

He liberated a small packet from a pocket in his tunic and zipped it open and began pouring its content into his other palm.

"What are they?" she inquired curiously as she poured wine into their glasses.

"Digestive pellets," he explained. "As you know, turians can't chew food the way you do. My ancestors swallowed pebbles to help grind what they ate. I prefer these. They're a little tastier." He tried making a joke out of it but it didn't seem to hit home as she stared at him increduously.

He put a fistful of the meaty smelling pellets in his mouth, threw back his head and gulped them down.

Probably the best thing he'd eat all night.

_A gizzard_, she thought. Another feature he shared with her unfortunate bird …

She watched him ingest his treat in three big gulps. Horrified, she discovered that she could actually see them travelling down his throat, a big lump passed down his food pipe until the high collar of his tunic hid it from view.

A pill bottle appeared in his left hand and she watched him slip three pills into his mouth.

"Meds," he said, swallowed and exhaled. "All right. Let's do this!"

"Garrus," she looked at him imploringly. "Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely!" He gave her a brave look and grabbed his fork and his knife. "Now, how do I do this?"

_How did turians eat then?_ Certainly not with knife and fork it would seem.

She showed him how to cut his food and how to impale pieces of chicken and potato on his fork and deposit them inside his mouth.

"I've never done this before. Obviously." He looked amused at the concept of using tools to feed himself but managed to lift a single piece of chicken to his lips without dropping it. "Here we go!"

Mercifully, the food wasn't nearly as bad as the smells had indicated. The _chicken_ had an odd, almost rubbery texture to it and the best way to describe the taste was .. _metallic_. It reminded him of the mineral stones he'd licked as a child back on Palaven to help his bones and plates develop properly.

It wasn't pleasant but he could handle it.

He moved the chunk along his palate, ever further back, carefully positioning it with his tongue and finally forcing it down his gullet. One down … fifty pieces to go.

"Well?"

He suddenly became acutely aware of the way she looked at him and he realized she was waiting for his opinion of her cooking.

"Not bad," he said and gave her a reassuring smile. "Not the best thing I've ever had but … acceptable." She looked concerned despite his best efforts.

"How about we go out for a meal instead? Find something more suited to your needs?"

"What ..? No!" He leaned forward and brushed his fingertips over her hand. "This is our night. I wouldn't be anywhere else than here, sharing this meal with you."

"Even if it makes you ill?"

"Not even then."

"All right. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. If you promise not to say I told you so."

They ate in silence. But she did keep a close eye on him the whole time. It was reassuring and unsettling at the same time, like being scrutinized under a microscope. But he simply got on with the task ahead and settled into a rhythm after a while; one piece of chicken followed by two slices of potatoes and finally a sip of wine.

Oh, but the wine was interesting, he'd never tasted anything quite like it before. It gave off conflicting aromas that confused him at first. Wet earth. Wood. And some kind of .. _fruit?_ The taste wasn't half bad either, but rather sweet.

He still struggled with the chicken twenty minutes into his meal. The potatoes on the other hand seemed to melt in his mouth. He wasn't sure what they were exactly but they didn't taste like meat. He reminded himself that humans weren't strictly carnivores. Potatoes were likely some kind of filler.

And fill him they did.

His gizzard was stretching to its limits to accommodate and process everything he'd eaten. It was a good feeling being this satisfied .. that slow, grinding sensation just above his sternum, but finally, he was unable to swallow even one piece of chicken and he apologized for his bad manners. There was still a sizeable portion on his plate, by his standards anyway, and he felt embarassed about leaving it. Perhaps he could finish it later?

To buy himself some time, he started telling her about his life. She needed to know anyway if they were ever going to be involved.

He started by telling her about his family, about his mother and his sister and about the conflicts with his father regarding his career. He told her how working security on the Citadel had been a nightmare; while there were over two hundred thousand C-SEC officers, the Citadel was home to millions of citizens and, as inevitably happened when different species, cultures and belief systems collided, there was crime.

He told her some of the horrible things he'd seen while working on the force, about slave traders and drug dealers, about mercenaries and hit men and corrupt officers, and she already knew the story of the infamous Salarian doctor, Saleon, who used living specimens to grow organs for the black market.

And finally he started telling her how he'd gotten his friend killed, why he couldn't stay on after that … and somewhere in the middle of the story, he became acutely aware of the acid burn in his stomach.

It wasn't an allergic reaction as such but his body was definitely reacting to the alien substances in his system.

It went from bad to worse in a matter of minutes. From a slight queasiness in the pit of his stomach to a nausea that gripped his entire body. As cold sweat began to glue his tunic to his back and his mouth started salivating, he tried desperately to say focused on what he was saying, but it didn't help.

His breathing turned shallow, he could feel his heart hammering in his chest and his insides surged …

_No!_ This was not happening. He refused to let it.

"I'm .. sorry," he mumbled and supported his heavy head in his hands, swallowing again and again, trying to keep his food down. No matter what, he would _not_ regurgitate this meal! He _would_ not!

"Garrus, are you all right? You don't look so good." He could hear her getting up and hurrying to his side. And at that moment he was overcome with an internal spasm so powerful it doubled him over.

"_The bathroom ..!_," he choked out and started to rise but his legs wouldn't quite carry him.

"Come on then." She slid an arm around his back and made sure he was holding onto her in a similar fashion, allowing him to lean on her for support. Together they staggered the few steps to the toilet where he crashed down on his knees, grabbing hold of the seat with both hands. She had just about time to flip the lid open before he contorted violently and retched.

"So much for a romantic dinner …," he heard her saying sarcastically behind him. "I told you so."

He didn't have the strength to remind her that she'd promised not to say _I told you so._ Instead he groaned: "I'm sorry …," victimized by the painful surges but still refusing to let himself be purged.

This certainly wasn't the way he'd imagined spending the night at Shepard's, curled up over the toilet, vomiting like a wretch … He was angry with himself for spoiling an otherwise perfect evening, he'd have to make it up to her somehow … but now, right now, he was too busy feeling sick to think of how.

He tried thinking on something pleasant to take his mind off his physical discomfort. He thought about the sandy beaches and slippery seaside rocks where he'd played as a child, tried remembering the smells of sea and earth and salt …

But his lips tingled, maggots were crawling up and down his tongue and he could hear his blood thundering through veins in his ears. His mouth filled with thick, sticky saliva that slithered out of his mouth and into the toilet. _Disgusting._

And yet she remained by his side, kneeling beside him and running her hand up and down his back to comfort him. He'd never been so grateful for such a simple gesture. It became his lifeline, the one thing he could focus on and cling to while his body quaked and spasmed, again and again.

"Hey … ," she leaned forward to check on him. He'd been still for a while now, suggesting the worst had come to pass. His neck was sticky from perspiration. "Are you feeling better now?"

"A little," he replied and straightened up. "That was … _horrible._" He looked quite pale and his eyes were watery and dark from pain and exhaustion. At least he hadn't thrown up … and that had been important to him. "I've never felt so sick in my life …"

"I told you this was a bad idea." She put an arm around his shoulders to hold him.

"You did …," he admitted feebly.

"Listen," she began and supported his body when he tried to stand. "I want you to stay here with me tonight. I'd like to keep an eye on you."

A moment's indecision crossed his face, and was gone. "I … Thank you. I can use the couch."

"Not close enough." She led him inside the bedroom and made him sit down on her double bed. He didn't resist when she pulled the quilt to the side, allowing for him to slide under, and tucked him in, like a child. "I'll be right back," she promised and hurried back to clear the table and prepare herself for the night.

When she got back, she could hear him snoring softly in his sleep and once again, she found herself keeping vigil over him while he rested peacefully before her.

He woke from a dream to find himself covered in sweat, shivering and feeling ill all over again. It took him a moment to orient himself until he realized where he was and what had happened. Jane was sleeping by his side, he could just about make out her features in the faint light that filtered in through the blinds covering her windows. The light was always on in the Citadel, it never got truly dark, something that many new arrivals found disconcerting. He was used to it after spending so many years here, but the constant illusion of daylight made it hard to judge the time.

Luckily there was a digital clock on the bedside table, it read 4:37 Standard Earth Time. He'd been asleep for nearly seven hours. That was probably a good sign.

The cramps in his guts were not. _Damn! _Would this nightmare never end?

Carefully as to not disturb her, he snuck out of bed and toed his way to the bathroom as quietly as he could, closing the door behind him. Hardly had he pulled his trousers down andplaced himself on the seat before his body purged itself in a stream of frothy, bloody stool.

Five cramps later he curled into a ball under the strain and swore to himself, wondering if it hadn't been a wiser choice to give in to his nausea the previous night and let the damn chicken out the other end …

He remained curled up, shaking and helpless on the toilet and that's where she found him two hours later.

The bed was cold and empty when she opened her eyes. But the bathroom door was closed …

She knocked but got no answer. Fearing the worst she opened the door just enough to peek inside and to her horror he was there, collapsed on the seat.

"Garrus!" She called his name and much to her relief, he responded by lifting his head and blinking at her.

"Sorry … must've dozed off …"

She couldn't keep a cry of shock from escaping her lips when she saw the deep blue contents of the toilet bowl. "Oh my god! I'm calling for help."

"No, Jane. It's all right", he tried assuring her. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

He looked a bit brighter already but she wasn't taking any chance.

"No, you're not fine, Garrus. You need help." But he waved her off.

"Jane, it's just a bit of indigestion. It happens. Don't tell me humans never suffer from diarrhoea?"

"Yes of course, but …"

At least he looked a lot better. For lack of a better word, his face looked _rosier_ and his gaze was alert and there was the hint of a smile on his lips.

Perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps he was on the mend now that his body had cleared itself of the irritants he'd ingested.

"Well then, give me a minute to wipe myself."

"Of course, take a shower if you like."

His eyes drifted to the far corner of the bathroom. "Actually, a shower wouldn't be too bad."

"Take your time. I'll be here waiting." She closed the door behind her to grant him his privacy.

A while later he was back in bed, quickly asleep again exhausted after his latest exertions.

She got dressed and withdrew her omnitool and left the apartment for the nearest pharmacy. After all, it was about time she prepared him a proper meal.

_Swooosh! _ The blinds flew open and bright light filled the room.

"Good morning, sunshine." She was standing next to him, already dressed. "How are you feeling?"

"Ooooh …," he moaned. "Terrific." He felt sluggish, hungover. The muscles around his stomach burned from retching and cramping and there was a foul taste in his mouth. She hurried away and there was a rustling of paper. Squinting, he could see her in the kitchen from where he lay.

"Yeah right." She placed a paper bag on the kitchen marble and removed something from inside. She took a shaker from a cupboard and tore a silvery packet open, dumping the contents into the shaker, adding water to it.

"What are you doing?"he asked, suppressing a yawn.

"Preparing your breakfast. It's about time you had a proper meal. Something you can handle." She shook the bottle vigorously, until the contents within were foaming. She poured some of it in a glass and came over to the bed, offering him the glass.

"What is it?" He propped himself up on an elbow.

"Nourishment."

He accepted the glass and sniffed it. Whatever it was it sure smelled good so he dared a sip. He recognized the smooth and natural sensation of a dextro-amino potion sliding down his throat and gave her a nod. "Very good. I'll have another, thank you." Drinking jokes always hit home with Shepard.

Sure enough, she smiled at him. "At your service, mister. Whatever you'll have."

He emptied the glass and then another and handed it to her for a third refill.

"That's better, isn't it?" she smiled.

"Mmmm," he agreed. "Very nice."

She cocked her head and gave him a funny look. "You know, Garrus, the pharmacist gave me a very curious look when I told her my turian boyfriend had shared a meal with me."

"Did she now?" He swallowed a mouthful and felt his stomach settle at last.

"She did indeed. I could've sworn her fringe turned a very distinct shade of purple when I told her."

He choked. _Fringe! _

Coughing and spluttering he managed: "You .. you didn't .. mention my name, did you?" He wiped his lips in embarassment. "I used to work here, people know my name, you know."

She gave him a sly smile. "Well guess what? I ran into a couple of your old C-SEC buddies on my way out. They asked how you were these days so I explained our little problem and they laughed. Told me they'd bring the happy news to the Executor right away and that he'd be most pleased to hear about it."

He could feel his eyes widen in horror and his jaws dropped, mandibles flaring in shock. _The Executor._ The news would spread like wildfire among his former colleagues .. and Pallin would know before _she_ did ..!

She'd meant it as a joke, friend to friend. She was a good tease and so was he.

But at the look of utter despair on his face, she immediately knew this joke had backfired spectacularly.

Quickly, she leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No Garrus, I'm just kidding. I'm sorry." She let her fingers brush against his cheek in the faintest of caresses and he swallowed. "I didn't meet anyone and I didn't reveal your name. You're safe."

"Oh …" He let out a long, whisteling breath and the panic lifted from his features. She looked him squarely in the eye. No more games. She needed the truth.

"I think it's time you tell me the real reason for putting yourself through this ordeal." She could see him gathering up his nerve to tell her everything. "What's the truth behind this mealsharing?"

He looked so lonely, so lost … and suddenly she just wanted to hold him.

"Jane, you're about the only friend I have left in this screwed-up galaxy." He drew a long, deep breath and there was an infinite sadness in his voice as he continued. "I've seen so many things go wrong in my life. It's about time something started going _right_."

He lay silent for a moment, then said "Like I said, we turians belive that sharing a meal is the first step in uniting two people that care for one another." He watched her intently. "It's an ancient ritual, it probably originates in the dawn of times, when turians were still nomad hunters on the plains of Palaven. It goes to reason that a man would bring an offering of food to his woman of choice as proof of his hunting skills. A wise woman would accept a good man, one who could provide for and support a family."

She nodded. It made sense. Human society probably evolved along a similar path once. "And the second step is …?"

"Intimacy."

Suddenly the shock on his face a moment ago when she'd joked about the Executor made all the sense in the world. She wasn't sure her own face didn't betray the same emotion right now …

She should have seen this coming and she felt a fool for not having done so. But it was too late to turn back now. If she did, she would break his heart and, quite possibly, her own.

"So," she said and hoped her voice carried the confidence she wasn't feeling. "When should I book the room?"


	3. Reward

The first thing that caught his eyes as he stepped into the luxurious Captain's quarters wasn't the enormous fish tank to the left of the cabin nor the glass monter display a variety of starship models.

The first thing his eyes came to rest upon was the breathtaking appearance of Jane Shepard as she strode out into the room from the shower alcove. His heart jumped at the sight of her slender, feminine body, her every curve and shape accentuated by a tight black dress.

He could just fall into her arms and die right this moment and his life would be complete in every sense …

A twinge of terror curled around his spine. This was the moment of truth. There was no turning back. Did she want him still? Would this even work … or would this precious thing be just another, monumental, failure on his long list of failures?

Was he really ready for this? Would he pass the test?

_Palaven_, it was hot in here! Wasn't it?

Looking down at the wine bottle in his hand, his heart surged in his chest. _Was it good enough?_ He'd spent good hours anguishing over what to get her, what would be appropriate for the occasion. In the end he'd settled for wine. Wine was always appropriate. Wasn't it?

He knew so little about human customs, what little he thought he knew he'd picked up from secretly watching couples dine together. One thing he had noticed was that there was always wine, preferably expensive wine at that. This token of his wasn't nearly as expensive as he'd have liked it to be but it was the best he could do at the moment.

Shepard drifted close to him, accepting the bottle graciously from his hand and smiled coyly. "Chocolates would've been nice, but this will do."

Chocolates? Oh … a human custom he was unaware of.

A pleasant waft drifted into his nostrils. Her skin smelled of some exotic fruit .. apricot if he wasn't mistaken. Or perhaps it was peach, come to think of it. And her hair was still moist from showering and …

He gulped, suddenly very self conscious and embarassed, because _he_ hadn't showered or even washed before coming here. Because turian women liked …

_Damn_, and there he went again. He still kept thinking of Shepard as one of his own kind, still expected this to work like any amorous encounter between man and woman. That she would react and respond to him just like a turian would. He kept anticipating this to work _his_ way.

Suddenly the tiny bubbles rising to the surface of the fish tank beside him thundered like explosions, as if every sound had been amplified a million times. His heart boomed like cannon rounds, the blood coursing through his veins roared like thunder.

And Shepard turned and walked away from him. He wanted to reach out and catch her, bring her close to him, needed to feel her warmth against him .. because he so desperately wanted something to go right in his life. Just once .. just this once.

She settled the bottle on the table by the couch, there was a tiny _clink_ of glass touching glass and she reached into a tiny cupboard, producing two glasses and a second bottle, then offered him to sit.

The drink was exquisite, far better than his pitiful offer. As much as he enjoyed it, he wanted to move on, before he lost his nerve. He gulped the last of it down and set the glass back on the table and realized that he was shaking all over.

Her glass half empty, she turned and looked him in the eye. "Garrus …"

His gaze shied away, expecting the worst.

He was sweating as well. He could feel the thick fabric of his tunic sticking to his back and at the same time needles of ice lanced his spine.

She would reject him now and it would be all over before it had even started. She would send him back and he would spend the night alone again, curled up in his sleeping pod, cold and shivering and lonely, and it would break his heart.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and he forced himself to meet her eyes.

"We don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable."

He remembered what he'd told her earlier, that she could make him nervous, but never uncomfortable.

He shook his head. There was nothing he wanted more than to be here, with her. Being close to her, in her arms, was everything he _needed_.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was leaning into her, embracing her and feeling the softness of her neck against his cheek. A moment later she was holding him as well, one arm behind his back, the other on his hip.

"We don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable." Clearly he was shaken and afraid, his eyes darted here and there, not quite daring to linger on her form.

She was expecting him to let her down, to throw her some half-hearted excuse and bolt out of her quarters.

Instead, he threw himself at her like there was no tomorrow, clinging to her like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, letting her know without begging in so many words just how much he needed her.

Rough skin grazed her cheek and the boney structure of his mandible pressed against her neck. She felt a hot, moist breath against her ear. This close, she could smell his breath .. a foul stench of carnivore. When he drew back and his face lingered in front of hers, her gaze caught momentarily on the rows of sharp teeth, moist with saliva, in his jaws. His tongue had tiny barbs. It was dark blue, nearly purple.

_Alien._ And yet part of her wondered what that tongue would feel like against her skin … against her lips.

She touched his cheek. His pupils dilated in response to her touch. She let her hand drift farther back, stroking the thick skin on his neck … exploring the bony plates protecting his spine. He seemed to like that as she could hear him let out a long, slow breath at her touch.

She reached the strap that secured his visor in place and tugged at it, experimentally. It released with a sudden _snap_ causing the piece to slide down the side of his face.

"Oh .." Startled, Garrus caught it before it hit the floor. He blinked in surprise but made no effort to put it back on again. It slipped out of his grip and came to rest on the seat between them.

She looked him in the eyes, for the first time seeing him as he truly was. Here was the man confiding his darkest secrets in her, the warrior fighting by her side, saving her life more than once. Here was the devoted friend and faithful comrade who'd been missing from her life.

He was a man of flesh and blood .. but he wasn't human. And it didn't matter anymore.

Without his visor he looked strangely vulnerable, avian eyes darting everywhere and finally, uneasily settling back on hers.

Her fingers brushed against the collar of his tunic. She inspected it, looking for buttons or a zipper or something, _anything_, that would undo his garb. His eyes seemed to search hers for confirmation. Her touch was her answer to the unspoken question.

Gently he slid off the couch to stand above her, then guided her hands to his back, to the hem of the they pulled upwards, sliding it gently over his head, careful not to let it catch on mandibles or fringe.

The smell rising up from his naked skin wasn't a pleasant one.

The reality of what she was getting herself into suddenly hit home.

This was _Garrus_ standing half naked in front of her. Garrus, her friend. Garrus, the _turian._

This wasn't going to be a romantic night of passion, cuddled up against a viril man, it was going to be something very different .. and whatever it turned out to be, it was more and more threatening to become an ordeal.

And so what if it did? It would be nothing compared to what he'd endured to prove his loyalty and his devotion to her.

He must have read her involuntary reaction to his smell because he stumbled backwards, retreating in shame. "I .. I didn't know … washing was mandatory in human culture. Turian women … prefer the musk," he mumbled, embarrassed.

At that she couldn't quite bite back a chuckle and she shook her head. No, she wouldn't back down now. She wouldn't let him down. She could stand a little stink if it meant comforting him when he needed her like this.

And so, she inspected her prize. He was thinner than she'd expected. His chest had a certain width to it but his torso tapered into an impossibly narrow waistline and there was a spindly appearance to his limbs.

And he was more alien than she could have ever imagined. His thorax resembled the carapace of some ancient marine creature she couldn't quite name. Sharp, angular plates aligned and intersected to form an elaborate suit of natural armour. His back swelled into an unsightly hump and his shoulders were covered in tiny, interlacing plates that actually resembled a bird's plumage. A bony ridge ran the length of his chest, dissolving into thick calluses of hardened skin, like frozen waves rolling over his abdomen.

She dared a touch, gently, inquiringly. It wasn't so bad.

He didn't know when he stopped shaking with fear and started trembling in delight but it must have happened somewhere near his midsection. As her tiny fingers explored every fold of sculpted skin and teased their way around edges and scales, waves of pleasure rolled up his spine and made the firm plates along his neck shift slightly. This was too good to be true .. it had to be.

And somewhere along the way, it occurred to him that he had not yet so much as touched her in return. Did he dare to? Would she object to the touch of his alien talons? Only one way to find out …

Just as he reached out for her, his trousers loosened around his waist and something dipped inside. Not quite prepared for this, and suddenly very conscious about the fact that he wasn't wearing anything underneath, he reflexively jerked back ever so slightly. His jaws, parted from the delight wrought on by her tantalizing touch, snapped shut.

An intense twinge of pain exploded inside his mouth causing him to cry out in surprise. Alarmed, his left hand raced to his lips and when he felt a sticky wetness form on his finger, he realized what had happened. He'd impaled his tongue on a tooth!

"Garrus, what's wrong?" He could hear the concern in her voice. "You're bleeding!"

He did, he could taste his own blood and what was worse, he was spilling it onto her carpet. Thick blue stains formed in the fabric …

"Oh no … I .. I'm so sorry, Shepard. I …," he stuttered and tried to staunch the flow from his mouth. Damn, it hurt!

"Hold on." She turned and grabbed something from the bedside table, offering him a piece of tissue paper and helped cover the wound. "There, put some pressure on that."

He did and standing there, halfway undressed, with his fingers in his mouth and tissue paper between his lips, he felt like an idiot. Too good to be true indeed …

He watched as she dropped detergent on the stains and wiped her carpet and it felt like forever until his tongue stopped throbbing and the bleeding ceased. Spitting out wet pieces of paper, he managed a weak smile and coughed. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay. Now, where were we?" Shepard looked him in the eye and placed her hands on his hips. "Promise you won't bite yourself this time."

"I promise," he said, quietly. And with that, she undressed him.

Smiling and feeling suddenly shy and with a forming hotness in her cheeks, she looked him over.

There was a tiny thing _there_, between the bony structures forming the contours of his pelvis. An orifice. It made sense, she told herself. The turian homeworld was subject to intense radiation due to its unusually weak magnetic core, and thus every living thing had evolved to cope with those conditions.

Reproductive organs would naturally have formed to be sheltered inside the body to avoid harmful mutations to arise from the radiation. It made perfect sense that Garrus' _equipment_ lay hidden from view and would only reveal itself when needed.

On closer inspection she realized his opening was clamped shut by muscular valves. They reminded her of petals …

And the sudden mental image of Garrus with a bold red rose growing between his legs caused her to smile.

He shivered under her intense scrutiny, unsure what the smile meant. "What?" Was she mocking him? Was he really that different from human men?

From the corner of her eye, she could see his abdominal muscles contracting, the petals retracted inward, sealing him even tighter.

"Nothing, I was just reminded of something." The smile on her face died as she saw the uneasy shadow that had fallen over his face.

"Shepard .. I …" He took a step back, away from her, without even realizing it.

"What's wrong, Garrus?" There was genuine concern in her voice now.

"I …" _No_. He couldn't back down now, abandon her when she needed him the most. "I just … It's … This is difficult for me, Jane. I'm sorry." He shook his head to clear his thoughts. If only …

She stroked his chest and she looked him in the eyes again. "I'm not trying to pressure you, you know that. If you want out, just say so. I won't hold it against you."

But he _didn't_ want out. He wanted this, more than anything, but he was afraid. Afraid it'd all fall apart at his hands, leaving him lost and confused again.

"No. It's just … I …"

"Come." She took him by the hand and led him to the bed. "Lie down with me." She climbed in, he followed. And then she kissed his cheek. "Let's go sweet and slow. Would you like that?"

Her hand released his and trailed, slowly, gently, up his arm.

Heat rose up his neck and embraced his face. "Yes." He would like that, very much.

Lying next to Garrus felt wonderful. The proximity of his body was far more sensual than that of any man she'd been with before. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, exactly, that made her feel that way, but there was the comforting warmth of his rough skin against hers, of scales rubbing against her, the shy touch of his hands on her body and the feel of his talons, tracing circles in her skin … careful, yet dangerous. And when she touched him, she could hear his breath quickening in response.

She couldn't smell him anymore. Kissing the coarse, leathery skin on his neck and running the tip of her nose against him brought nothing but his warmth into her nostrils.

It was starting to feel the way she'd imagined it. Sweet and romantic and very arousing.

Her hands burned like branding irons on his buttocks, teasingly dipping into the crevice in between, tracing the contours of his form and prodding the muscles underneath … and he was cupping one of her breasts in his hand and fondling the peculiar patch of dark hair covering her entrance with his other hand …

… and _Palaven_ , it was too much! He could hear his breath rasp in and out of his bone-dry throat, his mandibles quivered in anticipation and down there was the sensation of his testes rising inside his groin, preparing him for imminent release. His gaze travelled down her body one last time, to that mysterious place, and halted … and then …

There was nothing subtle about his arousal. Pressure had been building steadily until there came a point of no return, a moment in time when necessity overrode embarassment, and he could no longer contain it within him.

Like releasing the catch on a bolt it emerged in all its wonderful, horrible alien glory … and the urge to penetrate – deep – hit him like a sledgehammer to his gut, knocking the air from his lungs.

She coughed in startled surprise at the sight of him and the reaction made it perfectly clear that _that_ was not what she'd expected.

She felt something shift in him, he tensed and the grinding of his teeth next to her ear gave way to a gasp and something _exploded_ out of him like a spear. It thrust itself along her thigh like a missile, hot and hard and leaving a wet trail on her skin. The smell coming off it, like ammonia, stung her throat. She took a deep breath … and dared a glance.

It was long and thin and it immediately occurred to her that none of the human condoms she kept in the drawer in the bedside table would fit him.

Very well, on to plan B. There was half a glass of water and a bottle of antihistamine pills waiting for her just in case they made it this far and she'd need them. She reached out for the glass and …

Suddenly Garrus was on top of her, on all fours pressing down on her; his hands on her arms, grabbing so tightly she'd bruise ... his legs pressing her thighs apart and eyes wide and black and gleaming, a feral look on his face.

Oh _god_, he would take her by force ..! She cried out in sudden fear …

"_Garrus!" _

The scream, like a slap to the face, startled him and brought him back to reality. He was on his fours over her, his face mere centimetres from hers. He'd grabbed her arms so tightly he could feel his talons digging into her flesh. And he was leaning into her, pressing her into the mattress with all his force. He could feel his thighs spreading her wide and his pelvis was poised to ..

His mind recoiled when he realized the horrible truth about the situation. His heart nearly stopped at the realization of _just_ how close he'd come to raping her.

His mouth flew open, he tried to speak but nothing would come out. Horrified, he took the only course of action available to him and beat a hastied retreat out of her bed, away from the object of his desires, away from Jane Shepard.

He had to get out, away from here!_ Now!_

He felt sick, he needed to regurgitate .. but where? He made for the pile of clothes on the floor and fell to his knees. He retched but brought nothing up.

"Oh ..," he moaned as wave after wave of nausea swept through him and his abdominal muscles contracted in vain to purge him. "Oh, Shepard .. I'm so sorry. I never meant to …"

The last remnants of his arousal dispersed in a thread of thick saliva that snaked its way between his lips and fell on his tunic. His erection retreated into his groin, granting him the bitterness of total defeat.

It was over. He'd lost her, lost everything that ever meant a damn to him.

"Garrus?" He felt her kneel by his side. "Garrus, are you all right?" She put a hand on his shoulder.

"_No!"_ He jerked away from her touch, violently. Somehow he got to his feet and stumbled away, falling into the leathery seat of the couch.

_Crunch! _

The sudden noise and the sensation of something breaking under his weight caused him to jump to his feet again. Spinning around he discovered the remains of his eye piece, mangled beyond hope, adding further insult to injury.

His throat constricted, there was an unimaginable tightness in his chest. This was the end, the end of everything. He felt like he was dying.

His world had crumbled beneath him, slowly but surely, and now … now this was crumbling away too.

"Garrus …" Shepard wrapped her arms around him and this time there was no fight left in him. He let her touch him, just stood there, frozen in place, empty and bereft of hope … a shadow of a man.

"Garrus, it's all right. Really, it is." She stroked his back, gently. "I know you didn't mean to."

He did not have the strength to turn his head and look at her, instead he blinked and blinked in a futile effort trying to hide the moisture forming in the corners of his eyes.

She didn't know how turians physically showed affection for one another, the best she could do to comfort him was to hold him and touch him the way she would have held and touched a human man. She wasn't sure it was doing much good though. It was as if Garrus had retreted into a corner of himself where she couldn't reach him.

"So …," she said slowly. "What happens now?"

His chest expanded in a shuddering breath. _"Now?"_

"What do you want to do?"

"I want …" His eyes closed and he gripped her hand so tightly it hurt. "There's nothing I can say that will make it right …" Pain spilled over in his voice. "All I wanted …" A strangled sound escaped his throat and the burning in his eyes intensified. How could he tell her what it would have truly meant to him, for them to be …

"Yes?"

"I wanted … For once in my life I wanted something to go right. Just once. Just ..."

"Garrus." She stroked his mandible and when he dared open his eyes to look at her, she was more beautiful than he could remember. Dark eyes staring into his as if peering right through him, directly into his soul. Her hair, soft and gleaming in the faint light as it gently touched her shoulders. Her lips, pink and soft and serious now. "It's not too late for that." And she leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. "Garrus, take me to bed. Make love to me."

_Make love_ … There was no turian equivalent to describe it quite so beautifully. But if she'd still have him, _Palaven_, he would indeed make love to her.

If anything, it felt better this time. He knew what to do, where to touch and caress her and he knew what her touch would elicit in return. Part of him screamed that he was crazy for attempting this a second time, the other part was grateful for having the opportunity to set everything right.

And when his moment came and he was revealed once more, he waited for her permission before lowering himself onto, and into, her, slowly and carefully.

It wasn't as awkward as he'd feared it would be. She wasn't all that different to a turian. And to his delight, she had _flexibility_. When he slid inside and pushed forward, inching his way into her, she accomodated him with ease. The first thing that had gone _right_ all evening.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, relaxed his muscles and felt the warmth and comfort of Jane Shepard all around him.

Was this a dream? No, it couldn't be; he could feel her under him, smell her scent and hear her breathing. And when he opened his eyes, she was there, with him. And any moment now he would reap his reward. She would send wave after wave of pleasure crashing down his length, tensing around him again and again until she drove him over the edge and into his climax …

But something wasn't right. She wasn't spasming.

Concerned, he adjusted his position slightly to still her need. Nothing happened.

He tried pushing further inside but bone met bone and he ground to a halt. He shifted to the side a bit … still nothing. He tried shifting to the other side .. but that didn't do anything at all.

Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong.

And then the horror of reality hit him. He wasn't adequatly shaped for her … not long enough or wide enough to cause her to spasm. Or perhaps her body was incapable of responding to the hormones he exctreted?

It was the most dreadful moment in his life and it seemed to stretch on forever. Never had he felt so useless before, so _helpless_. His mouth was suddenly dry again and he choked on his own tongue when he tried to swallow. Coughing and sending tiny globules of saliva into her face and hair, he could feel his erection fading fast.

With a final monstrous effort, as if sheer willpower would force him to expand to whatever shape and size she needed him to be, he pressed himself even harder against her pelvis, clinging to her soft and fragrant body for deer life. Still nothing. Not the faintest reaction. He was doomed …

For the first time in his life Garrus Vakarian found himself consumed by full blown panic. This could not be happening! His heartrate spiked, he could feel the arteries in his neck throb so violently they would surely burst … and then …

"Well?"

He snapped his head up and his wild, panicking eyes caught hers. "What?" he croaked. _What am I supposed to do!_

The corner of her mouth crooked into a tiny smile at his shock and horror.

"You're supposed to …"

"_What!"_ He should have watched those damned vids! If he'd only watched the vids ..!

Her tiny hands slid off his back, to rest on her chest. The right hand formed a fist .. but not quite. The fingers didn't close entirely into a ball but left a tiny tunnel in the middle, just wide enough for a finger to fit through. The left hand's index finger pointed at the nearly closed right hand and she gently slid the finger into the imaginary tunnel. And back out. And back inside again.

Garrus felt his mandibles droop in utter bewilderment. He had _no_ idea what that gesture was supposed to mean, none whatsoever. And he felt such an imbecile for it.

Shepard, on the other hand, seemed to relish in his confusion. A tiny smile wrinkled the corners of her mouth … it spread slowly at the utterly lost look in his eyes, and expanded to form a gorgeous smile that made his cheeks grow hot with embarassment.

"Here." She picked something up from the bedside table, hit a button and the giant screen above the bed flickered to life. Garrus turned his head and caught a glimpse of two human bodies. A man and a woman. Naked. Entwined. _Making love._ The woman on her back, the man on top. And …

His cheeks burned now, he could feel the pounding of his pulse in his swollen tongue.

The man moved rhythmically in and out of the woman, thrusting his pelvis back and forth in a steady, even pace. The woman moaned softly. Her long dark hair was spread all over her pillow and the mattress and her naked breasts bobbed gently to the rhythm of her lover's thrusts.

"You see?" Shepard beamed at him as he forced his gaze away from the screen to glance at her face. Two rosy spots had appeared on either of her cheeks. Oh damn, this _was_ embarrassing and he wasn't the only one suffering ..!

"Is .. is _that_ what you need?," he stammered. "I didn't … I never .."

She pointed to the screen. "Wanna see something funny?"

He heard her tap another button on the remote and all of a sudden the loving couple moved and writhed and bobbed twice as fast. He let out a strangled gasp and couldn't take his stunned eyes from the man's rear as it pounded its mate, in and out, at an impossibly fast pace.

It was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever seen … and he'd seen _plenty_ during his years at C-SEC.

It started as a bubbling rattle deep down in his chest, roiled upwards unstoppable through his chest, forced its way through his throat and exploded into a frantic laughter that shook him from toe to fringe.

And he couldn't stop! His eyes watered from the effort, gaze still glued to the ridiculous scenes playing out on Shepard's screen. He gurgled and sputtered and contorted uncontrollably until the muscles in his abdomen ached and hurt, and he laughed, and laughed like he hadn't done in ages. Like he couldn't even remember _ever_ laughing.

And the panic and hurt and fear and humiliation drained out of his body as if by magic. Vaguely, he could feel her body shaking under his and realized she was laughing as well. The chorus of their voices was the sweetest music he'd ever heard.

Oh, by the gods … what a miracle!

"I can't go that fast!," he blurted out when he managed a breath again. "I'm not a machine ..!" And then the idiocy of that statement, hard fact as it may be, made him start laughing all over again.

"Don't worry …," she smiled and gripped his hands tightly into her own. "Neither am I."


	4. Forever

Jane finished brushing her hair by her bathroom mirror and studied her reflection. She hadn't put on any makeup as she knew she'd step into the shower any minute.

There was a gentle knock on her door. She turned around just in time to see him let himself into her apartment and step into the room bearing a gift.

Garrus.

Just the thought of that one word made her heart leap with joy. _Her_ Garrus. Forever.

She walked over to greet him, to put her arms around him like she would never let go again. He was wearing a different outfit this time, beige and pink and it looked absolutely stunning on him.

"Heeeeey …," he drawled, presenting her the gift. "I brought chocolates."

She accepted the gift from his hand and smiled. "Chocolates? A quick learner, hm?"

He leaned forward, just enough so that their forheads touched, a gesture she now understood was a turian sign of affection.

"I learn from the best."

"So you do." She gave him a quick kiss. "I have something for you too."

She took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. A small parce waited on the quilt for him and he immediately recognized the company emblem of Saronis Applications.

"What's this?" Throwing himself onto her bed he grabbed the parcel and opened it.

A visor! Similoar, but different to his old one. He picked it up, felt it against his palm. It was nearly weightless.

"It's custom made for you, they based this one on the Kuwashii frame."

"Oh ..," he said delighted. "You shouldn't have ..! This must have cost a small fortune …"

"Well, I got myself a discount," she smiled. "Go on. Try it on."

He did. It fit perfectly along his temple, resting against his fringe without him even noticing.

Upon booting the software a multitude of menus and options became available, all waiting for his command. He prompted the target reticle and it popped into being. But there was something more to it than a simple crosshairs. It seemed as if he was getting readings from the room, and from her body. _"Wow ..!" _

"I hope you'll find the specs to your liking." She smiled at him. "How about this: it has a one hundred times zoom function, is capable of targeting and tracking objects by thermal, Sonar, LADAR or EM measuring. Furthermore you'll be able to assess certain physical reactions in a subject within a ten metre radius. Might prove useful while interrogating a suspect, no?"

He flipped through the menus until he found one that read _Biometric scanning _and entered its base mode. A tiny pulsating LED dot indicated her heartbeat and an audio link registered her breathing.

"This is amazing ..!"

"Well," she smiled "if we're going to work together on a regular basis, I need you equipped with the best tech money can buy."

Good point!

"Furthermore, it can detect biotic fields within a range of one hundred metres and there's a kill-counter for boasting purposes. I bet you'll run that one on overdrive, won't you?"

He chuckled. "Most definitely!"

"And guess what?" She reached out and touched the tip of his nose with her index finger. "It plays music too. So .. if you ever get bored during our … _sessions_ … "

"Commander …" He shot her a dirty look. "You're giving me a hard-on." He dropped his mandibles to bare his teeth in the turian equivalent of a grin.

Because, against his better judgement, he _had_ watched one of those vids last night in the hope of picking up some useful phrases. Some _dirty talk._ And it had been very educational in that department.

And then he gasped because her hand had drifted to his groin.

"That … " He drew a ragged breath. "That was a joke."

Staring him straight in the eye. "Yeah? Well I'm not laughing."

"Oh …"

Her touch grew firm against him, rubbing ever so gently and ripples of pleasure spread up his rear to the small of his back. He allowed himself to relax and dared his tip to explore the touch of her hand through his trousers.

And then she was _inside_ his trousers.

_Bliss! _

He let out a long, slow breath, revelling in the sensations ravaging his body.

"Please ..," he begged. "Please don't stop."

A gentle light seeped through the blinds, casting shafts of light on the walls and ceiling.

They lay together, side by side, in Shepard's bed … two naked bodies, one human, one alien, still hot and moist from showering. Both smelling of peach.

He looked into her eyes and felt as though he could drown in her. His heart was still beating a little too fast after his exertions, he felt sluggish and spent but utterly content, and there were the most erotic memories of Jane Shepard's amazing body next to his, doing all those wonderful things to him, and of him giving back in return.

Making love to her would be his mission today, tomorrow and forever.

There was nothing to disturb this perfect moment. For the first time in a long time there were no pressing concerns demanding their immediate attention.

And for the first time in a _very_ long time, Garrus Vakarian was a happy man.


End file.
